If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don't Want To Be Right
by SantittanyForever
Summary: It's a normal night out when Santana and Brittany meet in a club, the air tense with desire. But when Santana turns out to be Brittany's new college teacher, their perfect little world is shattered. Will everything they have be ruined by this shocking revelation? Three-shot.
1. Tattoos And A Switchblade Attitude

Santana shifted in her seat, glancing around, surveying the scene before her. Flashing fluorescent lights, reflecting off wide eyes and shiny table tops, occasionally landing on her and highlighting her mocha brown eyes and plump, pouty lips, ensconced in a frame of tan skin and hair so dark, it was almost black. She picked up her drink and took a small sip, relishing the slight burning sensation on her tongue before languishing and swallowing it down. She sensed a pair of eyes on her, and turned to find a middle-aged man leering at her, staring unashamedly at her ample cleavage. She smirked, before shaking her head slowly at him. He soon got the message, huffing before moving to set his sights on new prey. Santana sighed heavily; although she enjoyed the attention she received on a daily basis, for once she would like it if someone would notice her for more than just her physical appearance.

She was currently sat on a stool at the bar of her favourite club, which was owned by Quinn, her best friend from high school. She loved the thriving music, the pounding bass, the electric buzz that always seemed to be swimming in the atmosphere. She also really loved the fact that she got free drinks whenever Puck was on bartending duty; the guy had an obvious crush on her, which he didn't bother hiding, but his cocky attitude was rather endearing and so Santana had grown to like him after a while. But they both knew that nothing more than friendship would ever happen between them, for one glaring reason; Santana was gay. The initial struggle she had experienced when coming to terms with her sexuality hadn't been pretty, but in time, with the help of Quinn and Rachel, Quinn's long-term girlfriend, she had eventually accepted who she was and embraced it.

That was another reason why Santana was sitting alone at a bar on a Friday night. Although she had been out for a while, she had yet to enter into a serious, committed relationship with a woman. While she had enjoyed many nights filled with drunken slurs and meaningless sex, a part of her ached for the comfort, the love, and the joy that seemed to come from being in a relationship with someone you care about. And being around Quinn and Rachel really didn't help. They acted like deprived puppies every time they were reunited; and while this was cute for the first few weeks, Santana quickly began to resent the squeals of joy and the tender embraces, instead choosing to zone out whenever she was in a room with the couple.

Quinn had eventually noticed Santana's melancholia, and had encouraged her to put herself out there more and try to find her perfect woman. At first, Santana had scoffed at the idea, but eventually the loneliness became almost unbearable, so she had relented and allowed Quinn to plan a few nights out for them all. However, this night didn't seem to be going to plan. Well, she was in Quinn's club, which was part one of the plan, but that was the only part that seemed to have happened successfully, for instead of being swarmed by beautiful women all desperate for some Santana love (as Quinn has said would happen), she found herself perched at the bar, ordering drink after drink, and the only attention she was receiving was from pervy old men.

She sighed in exasperation, debating whether she should just leave. She glanced around for Quinn, intent on telling the blonde that she was going home, but was suddenly distracted by a different blonde who was currently in the middle of the dance floor. Santana found herself mesmerised by the blonde's movements, and could do nothing but watch as the mystery girl swung her hair around, grinding her body sensually before spinning and letting out a laugh that had Santana unwillingly smiling with her. Her eyes raked down the girl's form, taking in her toned thighs, her firm-looking arms, and the intricate tattoo that swept across her collarbone; Santana was mesmerised. The girl suddenly turned, as if she could feel Santana's lingering gaze, and their eyes met across the room.

Santana felt chills zap through her body as she stared into crystal-blue orbs.

But she soon found their eye contact too intense and broke it, looking down meekly and toying with her straw. She risked a glance back up again, but saw that the girl had disappeared. She let out a sad sigh; she expected something like this to happen, yet that didn't make the painful sting she felt any less prominent.

She swung back around on her chair, intent on ordering one more drink then leaving, but almost tumbled backwards off her stool when she found those same blue eyes staring at her, close enough now for Santana to reach out and touch the shimmery material of the girl's tight black dress.

Santana gulped, transfixed on the girl's face, taking in her soft, pink lips, the way they were upturned into a smirk, the cocky tilt of her eyebrow, the gleam in her eyes.

"Hey." The girl husked, her voice low and sultry.

"H-hey." Santana replied, cursing herself inwardly for being so jilted and awkward.

"I'm Brittany." The girl spoke once more, smiling a little, relieving some of the nervousness swirling and coiling in Santana's stomach.

"Santana." She smiled back.

"Such a pretty name for such a pretty woman." Brittany said softly, leaning down to whisper in Santana's ear.

The dark-haired girl felt herself flush, tingles running up her spine as Brittany's warm breath caressed the outer shell of her ear, her heart rate increasing rapidly.

"So, Santana," Brittany spoke, a little louder this time, "Would you like to dance?"

Santana couldn't seem to formulate a coherent reply, so she merely nodded her head and moved to stand. However, she had underestimated the strength of the drinks she had consumed earlier, and found herself unable to balance as she stood up. She stumbled forwards, feeling herself losing her battle with gravity and closed her eyes, anticipating a rather painful meeting with the floor in a few seconds. However, the pain never came, and she opened her eyes to find herself tangled in Brittany's arms. She raised her head, and let out a tiny gasp as the blonde's face was only centimetres away from her own, her lips parted, eyes wide.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked, her forehead furrowed slightly.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Mumbled Santana, feeling her face turn even more red as Brittany ran her hands along her arms, helping her stand upright.

Brittany watched Santana, obviously not convinced, but she didn't push the matter any further.

"So, how about that dance?"

* * *

They had been dancing for more than two hours when Quinn finally reappeared, scanning the room for her friend. When her eyes settled on the image of Santana and Brittany, giggling flirtatiously while spinning each other in twirls and grasping onto each other's hands, she smiled to herself, happy that Santana finally seemed to be coming out of her shell.

Meanwhile, on the dance floor, the air was thick with tension. While the women were giggling and smiling at each other, both could detect the hint of desire that lingered below their innocent touches and risqué dance moves. One thing Santana hadn't expected was how good of a dancer Brittany was. She wasn't a terrible dancer herself, but when the blonde took to the floor, it was like the whole world had to stop and watch; she was captivating. They danced like that for a while, fingers whispering secrets across wrists, hands lingering on waists for a heartbeat, until a certain song began seeping through the speakers, a song that seemed to provide the spark needed to ignite the unlit tension that had settled between them throughout the night.

"Oh my god, I love this song!" gasped Brittany ecstatically.

"Yeah, Kevin Lyttle is awesome!" Santana replied.

As the bass beat of Turn Me On began to resonate through them, Brittany seemed to undergo a transformation. Her eyes became darker, hooded, and she darted her tongue out to wet her lips, dragging it along her top lip for a second longer, holding Santana's gaze, her own pupils blown with craving.

Brittany grabbed Santana's arm, spinning her around and pulling her up against her body. Santana moaned, arching into Brittany's touch, feeling the blonde's breasts press up against her back, a jolt of arousal shooting straight down to her core. Brittany was panting in her ear, rotating her hips and sighing every time they came into contact with Santana's ass. She placed her hands firmly on the tan girl's hips, Santana shivering slightly as Brittany grasped onto her.

The song finished soon after that, and Santana turned, face flushed, meeting Brittany's sheepish gaze.

"Sorry." Brittany mumbled, looking slightly discomfited as she realised how intense things had just gotten.

"No, it's okay." Santana smiled, finding Brittany's embarrassment rather adorable.

The blonde smiled, her face awash with relief. They then noticed that most of the patrons had left, and Santana glanced at her watch, letting out a gasp when she registered the time.

"Damn! I have to leave or I'm going to miss my train home!" she panicked.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Brittany soothed, rubbing her arm gently. "Look, my car is just outside. How about we stay a little longer, then I'll drive you home?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

"I'm not asking for your permission." Brittany smirked, enjoying the way Santana ducked her head, smiling shyly.

"Sure, okay." Santana nodded. "But I have to go check my make-up in the bathroom real quick."

"I'll come with you." Brittany said brightly, so Santana nodded once again then made her way over to the ladies room, hyper-aware of Brittany's presence behind her.

Santana puckered her lips, applying a thin layer of lip gloss, letting out a small noise of appreciation as a sliver of the delicious flavoured gloss seeped onto her tongue. Brittany watched her in the mirror curiously, quirking her eyebrow as if to ask what on earth caused Santana to make such a noise.

"Edible gloss. Strawberry flavour." She giggled as she turned to face Brittany. "I like it because the moment I get tired of it or want to eat something, I can just lick it off."

Brittany found her eyes transfixed on Santana's lips, and the words were out of her mouth before she even had a chance to think about them.

"Can I taste it?"

Santana nodded, getting ready to place a drop on Brittany's finger. She was looking down, and so she not prepared for what happened next.

Brittany crossed the small bathroom in a few strides, placing her hands on either side of Santana's face and crashing their lips together. Santana dropped the lip gloss, frozen with shock for a few seconds. But she quickly found herself melting into Brittany's embrace, kissing her back passionately.

They parted moments later, Santana gasping and Brittany smiling self-consciously once again.

"Sorry, again. You just… there's something about you Santana, something that makes me do reckless things and act without thinking."

Santana ducked her head, clearing her throat and trying to hide the blush that was once again creeping up her cheeks. But Brittany saw, smirking as she reached down to lace their fingers together.

"So, how about we get back out there and dance until we collapse?"

Santana nodded breathlessly, gripping Brittany's hand as her heart skipped a beat. Maybe this was it. Maybe she had found the woman of her dreams.


	2. Frozen Inside Without Your Touch

Brittany awoke in a daze, vaguely registering the persistent beeping of her alarm, her head clouded in a haze of leftover alcohol and lingering flashes of memories. Last night came back to her in scattered fragments; the sour, acrid taste of her drink hitting the back of her throat; the way her breath hitched in her throat when she first saw Santana; the feeling of the brunette's oh-so-delicious lips upon hers. She found herself smiling as she thought of Santana as she reached over to retrieve her phone from her bedside table. Her smile grew wider as she read the words stamped across the brightly-lit screen: **One new message: Santana.**

She quickly swiped across the screen, typing in her password hurriedly, swallowing heavily as she waited for the message to appear.

**-Hey you :) I just wanted to say that I had a really great time last night, and I hope I wasn't being too forward when I asked for your number. **

Brittany grinned, her stomach fluttering involuntarily as she read and re-read Santana's words, taking a good few minutes to deliberate on how to respond. She eventually replied with:

**-Hey! I had a great time too. And no, you weren't being forward at all. If you hadn't asked, then I know I would have. But I'm glad you did :) **

She then placed her phone back on the nightstand, a satisfied smile lazily gracing her stunning features. A few minutes later, she mustered up a few grains of energy and rolled out of bed, swinging her legs onto the floor, wincing as her bare feet met the cold harshness of the floorboards. She was constantly wishing that she could carpet her small apartment, but being a college student meant she didn't really have money to be wasted on interior design fantasies, not when she had to pay for her own food and accommodation. Her parents were already paying for her tuition fees, so she had insisted that she would get a job and pay for other expenses herself, which was why she was begrudgingly leaving her bed at 9am on a Saturday, to get ready for her shift at the book store that was located in the centre of her college campus. Many people wondered why she didn't just stay in her college dorms like most of the other students, but she refused to share a kitchen and bathroom with people who would most likely provoke her and prompt her to, as she kindly stated to her mother, kick their stupid, immature butts.

See, the thing about Brittany was, she was never really like the other kids her own age. When they were all reading books about hungry caterpillars and things that go bump in the night, she was delving into the magical, enchanting world of Harry Potter. Then, as she entered her teenage years, her peers would be down at the local cinema, excited to see the latest Final Destination movie, whereas Brittany would be huddled in her room, watching movies like The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The Breakfast Club. Her mother described her as an 'old soul', as she always had an interest in things deemed too 'mature' for people her age. And now, while kids she remembered from high school, like Finn Hudson, were frantically trying to find their niche in the world and where they fit in, she was in her second year of studying journalism at Northwestern University in Illinois.

She stretched, letting out a soft sigh as her bones clicked in a wonderfully gratifying way, before making her way over to her bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting for the water to warm up. She hopped in a few minutes later, losing herself in the feeling of the hot water caressing her body, feeling the silky droplets run tantalisingly through her hair, dripping down until they landed on the porcelain floor with a soft plink. She closed her eyes, lathering up her hair, savouring the soothing sensation, and soon found her mind wandering, thoughts of Santana seeping in through her subconscious. She pictured the brunette, smiling happily, as she danced by her, occasionally grasping her wrist or threading their fingers together. She thought back on how the night had ended, with her driving Santana home and escorting her to her front door, making sure she was able to make it to the elevator, before planting a light kiss on Santana's cheek. Brittany remembered Santana watching her car until it turned the corner, the headlights winking momentarily before disappearing into the darkness; Brittany saying goodbye. She relished the memory of her lips brushing against Santana's soft cheek, then on her own lips, and found herself blushing at the thought.

She shook her head, attempting to bring herself out of her impromptu reverie, feeling as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing, even though she was alone. She scoffed at herself, realising how silly she was being.

'_Honestly, you're over-thinking things.' _She scolded herself. _'If anything, she probably just wants to be friends. And even if she wants more than that, how are you going to fit seeing her in between college and work?' _

As she got out of the shower, dressed and quickly chomped down a bowl of cereal, she continued trying to convince herself not to get too attached to Santana. But all thoughts of taking a step back were completely wiped from her mind and her will power shattered as she heard her phone beep once again, signalling the arrival of a text message.

**-I really hope I get to see you again Brittany. Oh, and one more thing… you're the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. **

"Damn it."

* * *

Santana and Brittany continued on like this for the next few weeks, texting and talking via phone or Skype whenever either of them had a spare moment. They found out general details about each other, for example, Brittany discovered that Santana was 21, and that she had just begun a career as a teacher, and had a deep love for musicals and Broadway shows, while Santana in turn found out that Brittany was a 19-year-old college student currently studying journalism with a wide interest in books and writing short stories. But they also shared more intricate information, things that they didn't tell many people; Brittany admitted to suffering from a bout of depression as a teenager, due to being bullied when she had first started high school, while Santana confessed that she had almost been thrown out onto the streets when she came out to her parents at the age of sixteen. But, despite these intense conversations, they always managed to end their conversations on a light note, the sound of laughter often reverberating round Santana's apartment, much to the annoyance of Quinn, with whom Santana shared the flat with.

The phone call she was currently having with Brittany involved the blonde telling her all about her cat, Lord Tubbington, and his crazy antics of the week, which included joining a street gang, putting all of Brittany's socks in the freezer, and getting arrested for illegally selling catnip on street corners.

Naturally, Santana had tears streaming down her face as she shook with laughter, head lolling back as she lounged across the sofa in the living room. Quinn waltzed in from the kitchen, rolling her eyes as Santana continued to giggle. The brunette noticed this and stuck her tongue out at her disgruntled best friend, before telling Brittany that she had to go and putting the phone down after a sickeningly sweet game of 'No, you hang up', much to Quinn's further annoyance.

"Jeez Q, your face is so sour, you make lemons look sweet."

"Ha ha, very funny." Quinn drawled.

"What's up with you today?" Santana griped, sitting up and watching Quinn accusingly. "You and Berry spend ninety percent of your time together sucking each other's faces and you don't hear me complaining."

Quinn huffed, rolling her eyes once again before fixing her gaze on Santana.

"It's not that I don't find it cute or whatever, albeit slightly irritating, it's just…"

"Yes?" Santana pressed impatiently."

"I don't know San, I just don't want you to rush into things. I mean, you met this woman, what, a month ago? And you're already acting like, I don't know, like you've known her for years."

"Aw, you jealous?" Santana smirked.

"No!" Quinn protested, a little too quickly, Santana thought. "I just don't want you falling head over heels for this girl then getting hurt."

"It's a little late for that." Came the mumbled reply.

"What?"

Santana averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn self-consciously.

"Well, like you said, I know it's only been a month, but I… I really like her, Quinn. Besides, you're the one who's always encouraging me to get out there and settle down!"

Her tone turned accusatory.

"Yes, but I didn't mean settle down with some random woman you met in a club!" Quinn exclaimed.

Santana's face dropped, and Quinn's expression immediately softened, her voice apologetic.

"Sorry, San. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just looking out for you, you know that, right?"

Santana nodded, smiling appreciatively.

"I mean, we've been like sisters since high school. It's my job to make sure no hoes be upsetting my baby girl!" Quinn joked, adopting the stereotypical sassy black girl voice that always cheered Santana up no matter what was going on.

True to form, Santana chuckled, before standing up and yawning.

"Well, thanks for the talk Q, but I've got to get to bed. Got an early start tomorrow."

"Oh right, the new job!" Quinn squealed. "You nervous?"

"Extremely. But I'm also really excited." Santana grinned.

"Don't worry San. You're going to kill it." Quinn beamed proudly. "You go girl!"

Santana giggled at Quinn's pseudo-voice once again, before entering her bedroom with a smile. She had a quick shower, then hopped into bed, sighing as she sunk into the soft mattress, swathing herself in her plump duvet. She closed her eyes, her mind settling on an image of a smiling Brittany before she was lost to the world of dreams and illusions.

* * *

Santana awoke with a start to the sound of her alarm honking obnoxiously, blinking to clear her eyes before groaning inwardly. She leaned over and slammed the off button, grumbling as she reluctantly heaved herself up and out of bed. She heard a clatter outside her bedroom door and, opening it slowly, was met with an image of Quinn frantically attempting to mop up a spillage of some sort of brown liquid.

"Uh, morning San! I was going to bring you coffee, but…"

"Don't worry about it Q." Santana chuckled, before making her way into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, and Santana was perched at the kitchen counter, enjoying a slice of toast smothered in Nutella, as Quinn nibbled on a banana while reading the morning paper.

"So," Quinn mumbled, mouth full of potassium-infused fruit, "Jou all eggy bor joday?"

"Sorry?" Santana asked, stifling a laugh.

Quinn made an effort to swallow before speaking again.

"I said, you all ready for today?"

Santana nodded, but Quinn could sense her hesitation.

"Don't stress so much, S. They're going to love you. You'll be their favourite teacher by the end of the day, you'll see."

Quinn smiled reassuringly, and Santana returned her smile, feeling slightly less nervous about the upcoming day. They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, until Quinn had to leave for her part-time day job, where she worked at a small coffee shop until it was time to open her club. Santana waved goodbye to the blonde, before gathering up her stuff and placing it in the sink. She gave herself one more check up in the mirror, scrutinising every aspect of her carefully chosen outfit; she had donned her favourite black fitted blazer, and paired it with a white shirt and a black pencil skirt, complete with black kitten heels. She had opted for no tights today, as it was relatively warm outside, so her legs were naked, her caramel skin shiny and smooth.

She smiled confidently at her reflection and took one last calming breath, before grabbing her bag and keys and making her way down into the streets below. She walked the short distance to the train station and didn't have to wait long before a train arrived, ready to escort her into this new chapter of her life.

* * *

Brittany was lounging back, chuckling at something her best friend, Kurt, had just said. Her head was resting on his thigh as she lay stretched across the desk, legs lolling over the side, taking some time to wind down after their first lecture of the day, which involved learning how to edit an article and how to know when it was fit for publishing. She was currently hanging out with her small group of friends who she had met during her first week at Northwestern, and everyone across the campus simply knew them as 'that group'; their gang consisted of Kurt Hummel, a witty, flamboyant young man with a love for fashion and sarcastic quips; Sugar Motta, a girl who was just as sweet as her name suggested but sometimes lacked the common sense a person is expected to have; Artie Abrams, who was one of the best dancers Brittany had ever seen and who also had a secret passion for comic books; Mercedes Jones, a sassy young woman with the voice of a diva who was fiercely protective of her friends; and, of course, Brittany Pierce. They had all met when they had gone to audition for the college's show choir club, and through a mutual love of dancing, singing and just having a good time, they had bonded and were now inseparable.

"So, you guys heard the news?" Artie said, his arm slung around Sugar's shoulder.

"Huh?"

"What news?"

"No, what is it?"

"What's crackalackin', home boy?"

"Apparently, Mr Jenkins quit because he got offered a new job teaching English at Yale, so we're getting a new teacher for Media Studies."

"Huh."

"Yeah, and I also heard that she's like, insanely hot."

"Artie!" Sugar exclaimed.

"What?!"

Brittany just rolled her eyes, giggling as she observed her friends. A few more minutes passed until it was time for them to go to class. Mercedes stood and stretched, prompting the others to do the same. They gathered their belongings and traipsed up to the building, shuffling up the stairs until they reached the second floor where their classroom was located. They piled in, taking their respective seats. Brittany brought out her phone, planning on sending a quick text to Santana wishing her a good day, when the sound of heels softly clicking entered the room. Her eyes were glued to her phone, but they shot up when she heard a voice that was all too familiar resonate through the room.

"Hello everyone. My name is Miss Lopez and I'll be your teacher for the rest of this semester."

* * *

Brittany's jaw dropped. She stared incredulously as she watched Santana stride across the room and set up her things on the desk in the left-hand corner.

Santana hadn't surveyed the room fully yet, and it wasn't until she had set down her bag and her Styrofoam coffee cup that she glanced up.

Blue eyes locked onto brown.

Santana gasped audibly, almost tripping over her bag in her astonishment.

The other students watched her curiously, some following her line of sight and seeing Brittany's expression mirror that of their new teacher's. But Santana quickly remembered where she was and she shook her head slightly, clearing her throat before averting her gaze and smiling awkwardly.

"So, uh, like I said, I'm going to be your new teacher for this module. Now, why don't we start by going over what you all looked at last week, which was investigating how the media can have an impact on society, and who is the most vulnerable when it comes to victims of such widespread broadcasting…"

* * *

The lesson seemed to drag on and on, but finally, the hour was up. The students were dismissed, and they all raced out, eagerly anticipating their lunch break. All students apart from one.

"You coming Britt?" Sugar asked, as she noticed Brittany lingering around by her desk.

"Uh, yeah. In a minute. I, uh, I have a question for Miss Lopez."

Brittany didn't miss Santana's half-smirk from where she stood behind Sugar as the blonde addressed her in such a formal yet necessary manner.

Sugar waved and bounded from the room, leaving a thick silence to settle over it. Brittany shuffled awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

"So…"

"Brittany."

The blonde looked up, eyes bright, loving the way her name sounded rolling off Santana's tongue. She walked over to the slightly shorter woman, smiling as she slyly reached down to toy with her wrist.

"Yes?"

"This can't happen."

Brittany immediately stopped her movements, head snapping up violently.

"What?"

"This. Us. It can't happen. Not if I'm going to be your teacher. It's just… it's wrong."

Brittany simply stared at Santana, eyes panicked, mouth open but no words were coming out.

"But- I mean, you can't just drop this on me, this is, I don't understand-" Brittany was babbling, tears beginning to build in her ocean-blue eyes.

Santana's heart felt like it was being wrenched out of her chest, but she knew she had to nip this in the bud before they were in too deep.

"Brittany, I'm your teacher now. It would be wrong for us to… we could both get into serious trouble. It could be worse, I mean, at least no serious feelings have been developed yet-"

"WHAT?" Brittany cried. "How can you say that? How can you stand there and say that there are no serious feelings between us? All those texts, the late-night phone calls, you don't class that as _serious? _ What's your definition of serious, me on one knee with a ring in my hand?"

"Brittany, calm down-"

"No! I can't believe you've just decided to end this, like you've got all the power! This is unbelievable, I can't even look at you right now."

Brittany turned away from Santana, curled in on herself, shoulders shaking.

"Britt-"

"Don't call me that." Brittany snarled.

Santana recoiled as if Brittany had physically slapped her, the venom in the blonde's voice wounding her more than she ever thought possible.

"Brittany, please, just look at me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It hurts too much."

And with that, Brittany walked out, managing to make it a few steps down the corridor before she sunk down against the wall, her body wracked with sobs that sounded as if they were being torn from her very core.


	3. Lead Me Out On The Moonlit Floor

The weeks following Santana's rejection of Brittany were the most intense weeks of both women's lives. Any conversation was avoided, Brittany skittering around Santana like a timid new-born kitten every time they were in the same room. She came to dread her Media Studies class, entering the room with her head down, eyes glued to the floor, not saying a word throughout the hour-long lesson. Her friends worried about this sudden personality change, but when they asked her about it, Brittany simply shrugged them off, until in the end they just gave up and stopped pushing her for answers. The blonde would often find her mind wandering to thoughts of Santana, in the middle of class or when she was taking a shower or even when she was performing mundane tasks like grocery shopping. No matter how much she tried to filter out thoughts of the intoxicating brunette, the memories just kept seeping in, infecting her mind until she could think of nothing else.

Often she would simply curl up into a ball on her bed and sob, wishing she could feel Santana's comforting strong arms around her; she always felt safe in Santana's warm embrace. But she couldn't feel it anymore; it had been snatched away from her, and she felt herself plunging into a downward spiral of grief, the pain becoming less tolerable by the day.

The tension and distance from Brittany took its toll on Santana too, even though it was almost self-inflicted. She found herself watching Brittany at indiscriminate moments during their lessons together, a yearning ache settling in her heart. Although she knew that this was all down to herself, it didn't make the pain of having to stay away from Brittany any less raw. Santana soon found herself pining for Brittany, wishing there was some way, a loophole of any kind that would allow them to be together without her risking her job. But nothing came to mind. Her eyes often followed Brittany as she walked around campus, mocha eyes fixed upon blonde hair, through crevices or small windows.

On one of these occasions, Brittany was perched on a table outside in the quad with her group of friends that she was always with, laughing at something Artie had said. Santana's heart clenched as she watched the blonde, head tilted back, eyes bright with jubilation. But Santana could see the slight pain, the quiet guardedness that had settled behind Brittany's bright exterior demeanour as her laughter died in her throat moments later. And she was the cause of that. Without fully realising what she was doing, Santana reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Within seconds, she had Brittany's number up on the screen, her thumb hovering over that little green button. But just as she was about to press Call, she stopped herself.

'_What exactly do you think is going to happen if you call her? That she's magically not going to be mad at you anymore, and she's going to come running right back into your arms?' _

She shook her head, forcing herself to acknowledge the painful truth while holding back the tears that were threatening to spring forth at any moment. Even if there was a way for them to be together, who knew if Brittany would even want that? Santana had seen the betrayal, the pain in her eyes the day she had told Brittany that they couldn't see each other anymore. And she had a feeling that the blonde wouldn't forgive her too easily for breaking her heart so suddenly; she wasn't even sure if she could forgive herself for hurting the person she cared about the most in such a harsh, undeserving way.

* * *

Quinn had quickly noticed that Santana hadn't been her usual self a few weeks after her argument with Brittany, so cornered the brunette one Saturday morning as they were having a late breakfast.

"So, are you going to tell me why you've been moping around the apartment like a sad clown for the past few weeks?"

Santana merely glanced up at Quinn, giving her a slight shrug before returning to her eggs. Quinn huffed in annoyance, yanking the plate away until it was out of Santana's reach.

"Hey!" Santana exclaimed, brow furrowed in frustration. "Quinn, please give me my food back."

"Nu-uh. Not until you tell me why you look sadder than Rachel did the time she thought she lost her vintage Barbra Streisand doll."

Santana sighed, straightening up and resting her chin on her hands.

"Brittany and I, sort of, broke up."

Quinn's eyebrows shot up, her eyes narrowing, jaw clenched.

"What did she do? I swear, if she did anything to hurt you Santana I'll-"

"No. It was me. I ended it."

Quinn simply stared at Santana, mouth agape, eyes wide with shock.

"What? But you- I thought you really liked her?" Quinn's tone was a mixture of surprise and genuine curiosity.

"I did. I mean, I do."

"Then why break up with her?"

"She's one of my new students at Northwestern."

Quinn then proceeded to choke on her mouthful of banana.

"Are you serious?"

Santana nodded glumly, dropping her hands onto the table with a heavy sigh.

"Damn S. What are the odds of that happening?" Quinn mused, shaking her head in bewilderment.

"No idea Q. And it kills me to have to see her every day, knowing how I made her feel, but I thought I was doing the right thing, ending things with her."

"Well, I think you need to re-evaluate your definition of right and wrong, San. Because something that's right shouldn't cause you to feel this wrong."

Santana raised her head, gazing at Quinn in wonder.

"So… you think I should, I don't know, talk to her?"

"Look San. I know the whole teacher-student-relationship thing may be frowned upon, but at the end of the day, she's nineteen. She's not underage, and it's not like she's a naïve high school student. She's in college; she knows what she's doing."

"You think so?"

Quinn nodded, a comforting smile flitting across her lips.

"I think any girl who can cause _you_ to feel this much pain just from not being with her, is worth a little risk."

Santana smiled a little, whispering a quiet "Thanks" to Quinn, her voice cracking as she tried to hold in her tears, to no avail. The blonde smiled in return, reaching over and placing her hand over Santana's, which was trembling.

"Hey, shh." Quinn soothed, standing up and walking around the table until she was next to Santana. She pulled her best friend's quivering body towards hers, cradling Santana against her chest, the Latina's sobs coming out in small, broken yelps.

"It's going to be okay, San. You'll see. It's all going to be okay."

* * *

Santana remained quiet for the next few days, going over different ideas in her head for how she should try to win back Brittany's heart. She went over countless extravagant gestures and displays of affection, from a flock of doves to a personalised fireworks display. But in the end, she followed the advice Quinn had given her a few days prior, and simply listened to her heart.

* * *

Brittany walked over to her locker, her face adopting that painstakingly proverbial dejected expression that she had become accustomed to over the previous weeks. It was Tuesday, which meant that her next class was Media Studies with Santana. That all-too-familiar burn descended over her heart, enveloping her whole being until it felt as though she was being torn apart from the inside. But she was momentarily distracted from the pain when she opened her locker and a small pink note fluttered out, landing silently on the linoleum floor. She frowned, wondering who would put a note in her locker; but then her curiosity got the better of her and she bent down to retrieve it, opening it eagerly. On it were written a few simple sentences:

**Brittany.**

**We need to talk. No matter what you might think, I feel awful for the way I handled things, and I still care about you. If you want to talk, meet me in my room at the end of the day, 4pm.**

**Santana.**

* * *

Brittany spent the remainder of the day enduring an inner battle of wills, all the while avoiding eye contact with Santana during her next lesson, which all made it increasingly difficult for her to concentrate on anything. On the one hand, she wanted nothing better than to sort things out with Santana and get back to the way they were before. But a small part of her kept reminding her of how easily Santana had seemed to dismiss their relationship, and Brittany couldn't help but wonder if Santana was as committed to them being together as she was. But in the end, her desire to talk to the brunette won over any worries she had, and she found herself outside the classroom at 3:58, gulping in deep breaths in an attempt to steady her heart, which was pounding harder than a herd of elephants trampling through the undergrowth.

She finally plucked up the courage to reach out and place her hand on the door handle, exhaling deeply one more time before pushing down, the door slowly swinging open with a soft creak. She was met with the sight of Santana standing at the front of the room, blocking some writing that was currently on the board. Brittany took a few steps into the dusky room, closing the door behind her, her breath ghosting across her lips in short, sharp puffs. Santana locked eyes with the blonde, the faintest of smiles darting across her face. She then stepped to the side revealing the writing behind her.

**I'm sorry. **

Brittany felt tears welling up in her eyes and ducked her head, sniffling quietly. She heard the soft sound of boots clicking as they moved, and a few seconds later, her vision of the floor was obstructed by a pair of tan legs.

"Britt?" Santana said, so soft it was almost a whisper.

Brittany raised her head a little, fighting the urge to look at Santana; she knew that if she made eye contact with her, her resolve would shatter and any resistance she had left would disappear instantly. But, try as she might, she couldn't hold her gaze away for long. She lifted her head slowly.

Eyes locked, reminding them of past memories; their eyes meeting across the dance floor for the first time, and then that fateful day when they had exchanged a look similar to this when Santana had walked into Brittany's class, temporarily shattering their hopes.

"Britt, I'm so sorry." Santana's voice shook, and Brittany could see how she was trying to hold it together, to be strong for the both of them.

Brittany tried to respond, opening her mouth, but her throat had closed up and she couldn't seem to force any words out.

"I miss you." Santana said softly.

"I… I miss you too." Brittany whispered.

"Do you think- is there any chance, any at all, that you might forgive me for making such a stupid mistake in letting you go?"

Brittany's face scrunched in confusion.

"But Santana… why- I mean, how- what made you change your mind? That day, you seemed so sure, so certain that we couldn't be together. And now…"

Santana smiled a little, grasping Brittany's hand in hers.

"Because I realised that I was absolutely miserable without you, and that letting you go would officially make me the most foolish, idiotic dork in the whole world."

And with that, she leaned in, pressing her lips softly onto Brittany's. The blonde let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in, melting into Santana's embrace. They broke apart seconds later, gazing into each other's eyes.

"Well, even if you are a dork, you're a cute dork. And, more importantly, you're my dork." Brittany smiled.

"So, Miss Pierce, what do you say to me taking you out for a meal, then heading back to mine for a movie and ice cream?"

"I'd say that sounds like a perfect night, with my perfect girl."

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited this story, and I hope you all enjoyed this little mini-fic.**

**Also, sorry for naming the chapters so late, I only just realised that I forgot to edit the names before I uploaded them. Silly me.**


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